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Treasure Hunt (Barton Family Adventure Book 3)

By Mark Huebner

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Chapter 1

Secret Plans


Big Bill looked down at the chests in the boat and had to wonder. They were heavy. He had helped to load them, and it had taken all four men to settle them into place. The dinghy sat low in the water; almost too low to be safe. But it was a still night, the seas were calm, and they were safe so far.
“Aye, lads! Put yer backs into it. Not much farther to go now.”
The Captain, who sat in the back of the wooden row boat, spoke softly. Sound carries over the water a great distance on still quiet nights like this one, and he wanted no one to hear. He had made them stop several times in the last few miles just to sit and listen. He wanted no one trailing them to their destination. He had deliberately chosen a night when there was no moon. He was especially pleased when a slight fog bank had moved into the shore line. He would gladly take advantage of any aid in concealing his activities this evening.
Two shirtless men pulled on each oar. Even with all of their strength directed into the long pieces of wood, it was slow going, and it wasn’t because of the choppy seas or high winds. This had turned out to be a night of a near dead calm. Rather, it was because of the Captain and his wary, cautious behavior. The almost absolute darkness, the fog closing in, and the Captain’s strange, secretive manner had all worked together to give the four men an uneasy feeling.
Their slow progress was also because of the weight of the chests that the Captain had them load aboard just before pushing away from the dock alongside of the warehouse at the outer edge of Port Royal.
Three of the rowers were slaves from the Captain’s estate. They didn’t have much choice in whether or not to follow the Captain’s bidding. The fourth was a large man who had been part of the Captain’s crew for many years. His name was William Fordswick, but because of his enormous size, he rightfully came by the nickname “Big Bill.” He had drifted about from place to place, from time to time, but had always come back to join the privateers. He had made his choice a long time before. He had seen the Captain lead men into battle when they were far outnumbered and out gunned, and somehow he had still led them to victory, and of course, valuable booty. He had chosen to throw his lot in with the Captain and would follow him to the death. In his mind, his choice had been rewarded with more riches than he could have gained back in England working as a blacksmith. Even though most of it had now been wasted and thrown away in the drinking holes of Port Royal, he had convinced himself that he had made the right choice in following Captain Henry Morgan.
Big Bill had been there not that many years before when the Captain had first been given his own command and led the battle in Cuba, at Puerto Principe against the Spanish. A prisoner had escaped and warned the other villagers in the town of the coming attack, so they had fled and left very little loot to be found. But the crafty Captain had adjusted well, and they also attacked Porto Bello in Panama without warning and had taken over 500,000 gold coins known as pieces of eight, 300 slaves, and various other pieces of gold and silver.
He had been there when the Captain had originally set out to take the buccaneers against the Spanish at Cartagena. That was when his flagship was accidently blown out of the water by a drunken crewman. They had somehow caught fire to the powder hold, and when it exploded, half the ship was in splinters instantly. Undaunted, the Captain continued on, and again adjusted to lead the attack on Maracaibo in Venezuela. There they had taken over the town for more than two months, torturing prisoners and holding citizens for ransom. In all they had sailed away with over 300,000 pieces of eight.
Most recently, Big Bill had been there for the battles at Old Providence, the Fort at Charges, and the starving trek across the Isthmus of Panama where they had finally taken Panama City and burned it to the ground. They had done their jobs well as privateers against the Spanish. Some said that it was the richest haul in the history of the Spanish Main with the total being over 750,000 pieces of eight. Others rumored that when it had come time to split the loot, they had been shorted by the Captain. The claim was that somehow there was treasure unaccounted for and missing. There was one story told of a missing solid gold altar, cross, or set of amulets that the friars from the church had disguised by painting them black. No one knew for sure what the truth was, except for maybe the Captain.
Times were changing around them quickly, however. Some claimed that Captain Morgan’s raid on Panama City was illegal because there was a peace treaty in place between England and Spain. But out at the edges of the New World, so far from England, word of such things could travel slowly. Maybe he really hadn’t heard of the treaty before the attacks. Others said that he would be arrested and taken back to England to stand trial for treason.
Big Bill looked down at the chests again. Maybe the Captain was making plans for just such a thing. Maybe the Captain was putting aside a bit extra to take care of the unexpected or in case he found himself in trouble. Maybe the Captain would have an extra reward for him if he helped in such an endeavor.
Big Bill’s mind had begun to wander to the places he would lavishly spend such a reward when they reached the mouth of a narrow stream heading inland. It was well hidden by underbrush and jungle along both sides. If the Captain had not ordered them to steer in toward the bank, they would have rowed on past, and no one would have seen it.
The fog felt as though it were closing in more tightly around them, and the trees reached out like the tentacles of a deep sea monster to engulf them. Instinctively they began to pull the oars more slowly, hesitating to move forward.
“What’s the matter with ye? Are ya like silly women, afraid of the shadows?” growled the Captain. “Don’t stop now, we’re almost there.”
An eerie bird call that came from somewhere in the trees to their left caused the rowers to suddenly stop. Big Bill knew what it was, but there was only fear showing in the slaves' eyes.
Captain Morgan had not flinched, and he was growing tired of their uneasiness. Standing to his feet in the back of the boat, he reached for one of the flintlock pistols tucked in his belt.
“If ye stop again for anythin’, I will gladly send ya to wherever it is ya may be goin’ in the next life.”
As each man looked into the barrel of the gun pointed directly down at them, their fear of the Captain overcame their fear of the unknown. They began again to row ahead slowly into the darkness.
Soon the trees and the shoreline began to recede, and the fog seemed to lift ever so slightly. They found themselves emerging into a small lagoon. It wasn’t very large, but after the confines of the narrow channel leading into it, the openness provided a slight relief to their tension.
Barely visible on the far side of the lagoon away from the channel where they entered was a cliff. It was a wall that rose no more than forty or fifty feet straight up from the water. The rowing stopped as the men looked around them in wonder at the hidden pool.
“Toward the wall, ye fools,” ordered the Captain. “Ye act as if ye’ve never seen a puddle o’ water before.”
He waved his pistol at the water and then back at them. It was a not so subtle reminder of who was really in charge.
As they approached the base of the wall, the Captain instructed them to steer slightly to the left. Suddenly, emerging from seemingly nowhere, a passage into the side of the cliff opened before them.
“Ease just into the opening a ways, and then I’ll light a torch for ye. Move on ahead a bit more ye fearful dogs.”
The Captain’s continued urging, and the pair of pistols he carried, once again overcame the slaves' fear as they pushed on into the foreboding entrance. They had gone no more than three times the boats length when a spark caught on the promised torch revealing the inside of the cavern.
They found themselves inside an underground room. It was roughly the size of the lagoon they had just left. The ceiling was high enough that a man could stand on another’s shoulders and not quite reach it. The Captain lit a second torch, and they could see that on the far side of the hidden cove was a narrow beach where they could land the boat.
“Make for the shore yonder there, and be quick about it now,” barked the Captain.
When they reached it, they eased the boat up onto the sandy beach. The gentle slope made it an easy approach. Several crabs scrambled for the water as the light from the torches reached into their hiding places.
The Captain leaped from the boat into the shallow water and stuck one torch into the sand. All of the men followed, and it took all of their combined strength to pull the loaded vessel up onto the sand.
“Fine job, lads. We’ve almost reached the spot. Unload those chests now and set them up here high and dry.” The Captain stood back and watched as it took the effort of two men in the boat to lift each chest. They would hand it over the gunnels to the two men standing on the shore. It sapped almost all of their energy to remove the four chests and set them on the sand.
When that part of the job was done, each man was soaked in sweat from the exertion. The Captain reached into the boat and pulled out some flasks of water for them to drink.
“Ye see, I’m not such a cold hearted task master now, am I? Rest a bit, and then we finish what we came for.”
With that comment the men collapsed onto the sand and sat leaning against the wooden chests gladly taking the refreshment provided. The Captain took up one of the torches and disappeared walking off toward the back wall at the far edge of the beach. The slaves seemed not to care, relieved more to be away from his presence than anything, but Big Bill’s eyes followed the Captain. He was beginning to see the Captain’s plan for hiding these chests and their unknown contents.
The cave they were in was certainly well hidden from view. Big Bill had come to Port Royal often and had even lived here for extended times, but he had never heard anything about caves on the island. If indeed the Captain were hiding looted treasure, this appeared to be an ideal spot. Again Bill’s mind wandered to how the Captain would reward him for his loyalty.
Ten minutes later, the Captain emerged from near the wall and called, “Alright, ye lazy dogs, get up and start ye movin’. Two at a time, grab a chest, and follow me.”
The men rose and did as commanded. They groaned as they again strained to pick up and move the chests. When they reached the wall, they found a small opening. Following the Captain’s torch, he led them into a short narrow passage that opened up into another room. This one was much smaller than the large chamber they had just left. The floor had a natural step down on one side, and dropped into a shallow hole or depression in the far corner.
“Over there,” growled the Captain. “Set them down in the bottom and go fetch the others.” The Captain lit another torch and sent them back for the remaining two chests.
After a short time, he could hear their labored breathing as they came back through the opening into the room. He had stationed himself with his back against the wall just inside the entrance. The first two men entered with their chest, and the Captain simply waved them toward the pit where they had set the first.
Next entered Big Bill, who caught a glimpse from the Captain’s eye which made him hesitate slightly. Something about that look he had seen before, and it warned him of trouble.
“Aye, a job well done now, lads,” said the Captain in a sing song voice. “Oh, now ye two stay down there. Help ye partners in crime set this last chest in place.”
The two slaves below had started to climb the steps out of the depression, but the Captain’s almost cheerful encouragement to remain had stopped them. The Captain now stood above them looking down as their heads barely reached up to his shoulder.
Big Bill and the other slave had just reached the bottom of the step and were setting the last chest in place when they heard a startled scream and gagging sound behind them. They turned to see that the Captain had drawn his cutlass and in one stroke had slit the throat of one slave, and then quickly turned to run the other one completely through. He had given the sword a twist and left it in the man, while he quickly pulled from this belt the two flintlock pistols. Smiling, but without another word, he fired at the third slave and sent a ball of lead through his skull. Big Bill could only watch in complete surprise as the man crumpled to the ground at his feet. Three men were dead in the matter of a few seconds.
Looking up at the evil smile of the Captain, their eyes met, and Big Bill said in a shaky voice, “Well, now - now - Cap’n, your secret here is surely safe with me. I mean - well, I mean ye and I now - we been through a lot together ye ‘n me. I mean now don’t ye ‘member? Porto Bello, ‘n Maracaibo, ‘n Panama.”
Captain Morgan kept his pistol aimed directly down on Big Bill, but he seemed to take a moment to reflect as he said, “Aye, I remember well Billy ole’ boy. We been through some tough times at that. ‘N ye stuck it out right well.”
Relaxing with a nervous chuckle, Bill thought that maybe his ideas of a reward may still be what the Captain had in mind.
“Ya know, Captain, maybe there be a chance fer us ole’ buccaneers to have another go in Cuba. I hear tell there’s a shipment of gold a comin’ in that would put the plunder of anything we seen so far to shame. Whata ye think? Should it be Cuba ‘gain?”
As Big Bill looked back at the Captain, the smile was gone from Morgan’s face. In its place was a look of cold hard steel.
“Billy, ya never were too smart, lad. Ye should try readin’ the tea leaves a bit better me lad, those times are gone, ‘n there’s a new wind a blowin’ in the politics o’ people on both sides o’ the sea. A man needs to be ready to deal with what’s a comin’.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper as he said, “I thinks me is ‘bout ready now.”
Big Bill wasn’t sure what the Captain was referring to, but he didn’t like the look in his eye.
“Well, Captain, Sir, if I may say so, I don’t rightly know what ya mean, but whatever it tis ‘n whatever these here chests may mean,” he hesitated for a moment and then looked up into those steel grey eyes, “yer - yer secret is safe with me.”
Without the least bit of a flinch in a single muscle, the Captain quietly and coldly replied, “Oh, I know it is Billy boy, I know it is.”
The last thing Big Bill saw was a flash from the muzzle of Captain Morgan’s pistol.

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